


Written Letters

by John-locked-in-the-mind-palace (air64000)



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock - Fandom, Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: First Kiss, Fluff, Love Letters, M/M, Secret Admirer, Valentine's Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-15
Updated: 2014-02-15
Packaged: 2018-01-12 09:16:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1184506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/air64000/pseuds/John-locked-in-the-mind-palace
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John finds himself on the receiving end of many love letters, leading up to a chance encounter with someone he never would have expected. For the Johnlockchalanges Prompt exchange, for Brunetteyouidiot's prompt of 'Written Letters'</p>
            </blockquote>





	Written Letters

**Author's Note:**

> I'm so happy to finally get a Sherlock fan fic out! Trust me, I kept this short for good reason. Thanks to my beta Ellen at projectmagica.tumblr.com for giving this a once over, and to brunetteyouidiot for such a good prompt!

_10th of February_

_...I wish I could be there for you, my love. ..._

John knew he was blushing at this point. The hand not holding the letter covered a smile plastered onto his face. He’d found the letter tucked away in his mailbox this morning. 

_...I long to taste the tea from your lips, long to feel your arms wrapped around me..._

The letter had been written by hand, on paper that had an aged look to it. The envelope was small, and had no return address on it. 

__

_...I would start with your neck, I think. From afar, it looks quite lovely..._

John chuckled to himself, and shook his head. He could hear Sherlock waking up from his ‘after-case’ rest in the background, which lasted anywhere from a few hours to days. Thankfully this time he had more than just a sheet on. John quickly tucked the letter under a stack of books, and pulled out the morning paper. 

Sherlock walked into the living room, carrying his mug of tea and a plate of biscuits. He sat down at his chair, setting the biscuits and tea on the table next to him. 

“Something good in the post, then?” He asked, taking a bite out of a biscuit. 

“What makes you say that?” John responded, not looking up from his paper. 

“Well, for starters, you left the envelope on the ground here.” Sherlock plucked it from the ground, and held it between two fingers. 

John sighed, and set the paper aside. “Go on, then.” 

“No return address suggests a secret admirer.” He wrinkled his nose in disgust. He brought the envelope up to his nose to sniff. “The light perfume suggests a woman, how very typical. Only a few days until Valentine’s day-” 

“And why would you know that?” John interrupted, setting his paper aside. 

“Molly’s been trying with the lipstick again, and she’s changed her perfume.” Sherlock said. 

“Right.” John snatched the envelope from Sherlock’s hand. “Close, only it’s not a woman.” 

“No? How can you tell?” Sherlock asked. 

“The letter.” John pulled the paper out from under the stack of books. “The address was written by a woman, but the letter was handwritten by a man.” 

Sherlock sighed, and rolled his eyes. 

“Sigh all you want, I know love letters. The mates would get them sometimes, so you pick up on a few things.” He set the letter down on top of his paper. 

“Hmm.” Sherlock grumbled, and pulled the paper out from under the note, sending it to the floor. 

John shook his head, and got up to pick up the letter. “ ’Course I wouldn't expect you to understand.” He muttered, tucking the parchment back into the envelope. 

_11th of February_

*** 

The next day, John walked into the kitchen, rubbing his eyes with the sleeve of his robe. He saw that Sherlock had retrieved his mail already, with a note sitting on top. 

_Mrs. Hudson left breakfast in the microwave. I’ll be out for a while, Lestrade had a crime scene this morning. -SH_

John chuckled, and sat down at the table. The mail contained mostly bills and junk mail, but there was another letter, same writing on the front, same smell from yesterday. With slightly shaking hands, he opened the letter. 

__

_I wish we could meet, my love. Oh, how I wish I could find a way to say all of this to you. My heart aches for you as I write this. I would hold you through the night, whispering sweet nothings in your ear. I would make you forget anyone else you have been with, every sweet someone you once held dear. I long to feel that soft blond hair under my fingertips. Feel you breathe in my arms, knowing that you are mine and mine alone..._

John sighed with a shaking breath. How could something containing no explicit words be so... _sensual?_ He felt a little sorry for this person, whoever they might be. They seemed to fear that John would reject them on the basis of them being a man, and, once upon a time, John might have. But after mulling it over in his mind enough, and after living with such an intriguing, brilliant,  <strike> gorgeous </strike>, human being, he had come to terms with the idea of falling in love with another man. Setting the letter down, he got up and walked over to the microwave to retrieve the breakfast Mrs. Hudson had left for him. Thankfully, it was still warm. He carried it over to the table, and sat down to dig in. He went to pick up the letter again, but saw that he had set it down next to the note Sherlock had left. The handwriting was...similar. John picked up the letter and the note, and held them side by side. 

__

_”There’s no way. People are bound to have similar handwriting. Besides, Sherlock could never write such things. Too much...sentiment .”_ John thought. 

*** 

“So...have you *ever* had a...significant other?” John asked, reading a book that Harry had recommended. 

“Once. Back in university. It didn't end well.” Sherlock said. He turned the knob on the side, moving the stage on the microscope up slightly. 

John hummed in response. He opened his mouth to ask another question. 

“It was a man, if you must know.” Sherlock said, still not looking over at John. 

“So you’re...” John wasn't sure how to finish that statement. 

“I don’t bother with labels, John. If it isn't important to the work, it isn't important to me.” 

*”Well, that settles that then,” John thought, “Sherlock couldn't have written those letters.”* 

“I got another one of those letters today.” John said, holding up the envelope. He had been using it as a bookmark. 

“Did you?” Sherlock asked, clearly bored. 

“Yes, I did. “ John said, taking it out of the envelope. He opened the letter, and started to read again. 

__

_Dancing! My love, how I would love to dance with you. To feel you close in such a way would make my heart soar higher-_

“It’s ridiculous, those letters. Clearly they fear rejection by you, and don’t have the courage to ask you directly. Why bother in the first place?” Sherlock said. 

“And you know so much about rejection, do you?” John asked, setting the note back into his book. 

“I know more than you think.” Sherlock turned the dial on the side again, and turned to write something down on the pad of paper next to him. 

“Really? The man I've never seen look at a man or woman twice since I've known them.” John said. 

Sherlock stayed quiet. 

“Whoever this is is willing to try and show their affection without putting themselves on the line. I wouldn't expect you to know much about that.” John said flatly. He gathered up his book, and walked to the stairs. 

“Of course, I should take my relationship advice from the man who can’t keep a girlfriend for more than a few months.” Sherlock shouted to John, who slammed his bedroom door in response. 

*** 

_12th of February_

John rushed to his mailbox, hoping to find another letter, but today...there wasn't one. 

*** 

_13th of February_

_The light shines brighter when you are near, my love. I feel a warmth in my heart when I think of your smile. And when you’re gone... My world is dark. Some days I long for the darker times in my life, when my mind and heart could be at peace. But with you...those thoughts fade away. John Watson, you give me life._

John let out a breath slowly. His face was flushed red, his pulse rapid. That was the first time his admirer addressed him directly, and in such a…vulnerable way. John was lying in his bedroom, the letter extended above his head. He rolled over onto his side, pulling the letter in close for a soft kiss. 

“Who are you?” He whispered to the parchment, wishing it could give him some answers. 

*** 

_14th of February_

John tightened the knot on his tie, pulling up to sit just under the collar of his white buttoned shirt. He was wearing a light blue blazer, with a dark blue tie over his white shirt. The letter he received today was sitting on the mantelpiece in front of him. 

_On this day of romance, I wish to finally reveal myself to you, my love. Bring the card I included in the envelope to the address written on it at 7 ‘o clock sharp. The reservation is under your name. I’ll be in one of the private booths in the back..._

He’d spent the whole day preparing for tonight. He got a haircut, got out his best clothing, even opened that gift box of cologne Harry had gotten him a few Christmases ago. Sherlock, surprisingly, had been out all day as well. 

_Got a case. -SH_ Was the only note he had received from the man that morning. No texts, no nothing. 

_”Typical Sherlock, working on Valentine’s day.”_ John thought. He gathered up the bouquet of roses he’d bought at a shop while out for a haircut, and walked down the stairs to the sidewalk. Hailing a cab, he tried to calm his new found jitters. What would this person be like? Would they turn out to be just a creepy stalker? John shook his head. Someone who wrote like this couldn't just be a common stalker. 

The restaurant looked...expensive. John should have known by the address it wouldn't have been cheap. The outside had opulent carvings outlining the large windows that allowed a peek inside. John paid the driver, and walked up to the door, nodding to the doorman as he walked inside. The place had a warm glow, with soft amber lighting tucked away behind cabinets. A large chandelier hung from the ceiling, able to keep with the soft feel despite its size. A soft jazz band was playing in front of him with tables distributed around the room. There were a few booths stuck in alcoves on one wall, and down the way, the private booths blocked off by curtains. 

John walked up to the counter, where a woman was standing in front of a computer. “Um...two for John Watson.” He said. The woman smiled, and after typing a few things into the computer, she nodded. 

“Yes, right this way sir.” She walked around, and led John down the path to the booths. They were set up on a platform, set only just out of sight of any other patrons, but allowed the people sitting there to see the rest of the room. “Right here, sir. Enjoy your evening.” She left him standing in front of the first of four booths surrounding him. 

John took a deep breath. _Once you are here, don’t hesitate. Pull back the curtain as fast as you can..._ The letter had said, but he found himself more nervous than he thought. He grabbed the edge of the fabric, and pulled it back quickly to reveal- 

He gasped, dropping the bouquet to cover his mouth. 

Sherlock was sitting in front of him, looking forward and pointedly away from John. 

“S-Sherlock? It-It was you?” He said, taking a slight step back. His heart was pounding in his chest, his face was certainly flushed a dark red. 

Sherlock sighed, and closed his eyes. He stood up, straightening his tie and buttoning his jacket. “I...realize now that this was a mistake. I'll-" 

"Stop." John said, stepping forward. Sherlock went quiet, and still wasn't looking John in the face. Those beautiful words, the feeling conveyed in such small letters...all by Sherlock. The _last_ person John would expect. "Sherlock....Sherlock, look at me." He lifted a hand to Sherlock's cheek. Sherlock looked up, and the look he gave John almost broke John's heart. His eyes were glassy with the start of what might become tears, and a look of pain that could only come from the fear that John might reject him. Without saying a word, John moved in closer to Sherlock, closed his eyes, and pulled him down for a gentle kiss. At first, John felt Sherlock stiffen up, before he wrapped his arms around John's waist, and pulled him in tight. John opened his mouth slightly, licking Sherlock's bottom lip slowly, to which Sherlock responded by opening his mouth, and sealing it over John's. John could taste the mint Sherlock had seemed to of had before he came as they kissed, the taste sending his mind reeling. John moved his hand to the back of Sherlock's head, burring it in the soft curls, and pulling him in close to deepen the kiss. He moved them back towards the booth, until Sherlock's back legs knocked into it, sending them falling over. 

The two nipped and sucked at each other's lips, until John quickly realized this couldn't go on in a fine dining restaurant such as this one. He pulled away with great reluctance, noticing how debauched Sherlock looked under him. His face was flushed, his lips were red, and his hair was a complete mess. He smiled, which soon turned into a small chuckle that quickly changed into a laugh. 

Sherlock huffed nervously under him, "Something funny?" He asked, his voice rough. 

"No, it's just...this." John said, "Never thought I'd be doing this with you." 

Sherlock smiled up at him, " If you're not going to kiss me you'd might as well get up." 

John chuckled, and leaned down to kiss Sherlock softly on the cheek, before getting off of the man. He walked over to the bouquet laying on the ground, and picked it up. "I believe these are for you, then." He said, turning around to hand the flowers to Sherlock. 

Sherlock quickly adjusted his tie and suit jacket, before taking the roses from John. "You old romantic. Roses on Valentine's day?" 

"Hey, you're the one who wrote love letters to me. You've got no right to call me a romantic anymore." John said. He walked over to the booth, "So how did you find out I liked love letters anyway?" He asked as he sat down. 

Sherlock smirked, and sat down next to John. "Easy, really. I was looking around in your bedroom for something I needed for a case, when I happened upon the letters tucked away in a drawer. They had been well taken care of, so I thought you returned to them a few times. The wording was flowery and full of sentiment, but it did seem like the safest way to show someone...affection, without being outright rejected." He said. 

"So the stuff about letters being rubbish, and you insulting the writer..." John started. 

"A way to see how you would react to someone insulting your admirer. If you had rejected the letters, I would know how you felt." 

"God, and the things I said to you...I'm sorry, Sherlock. I never thought you could write such things." John said, putting his hand over Sherlock's. 

"Well, Molly did have a hand in helping. She provided the envelopes and...gave a bit of advice." Sherlock said, a light blush coming over his cheeks. 

"Advice? The great Sherlock Holmes needed advice on love?" John teased. 

Sherlock rolled his eyes, and intertwined his and John's fingers. "I did miss a day, remember?" He reached into his pocket, and pulled out another small envelope. John noted that the outside wasn't Molly's handwriting, but Sherlock's. "Shall I read it to you?" He asked. 

John nodded, and smiled. He leaned in close to Sherlock's ear. "Go ahead, my love." He planted a small kiss on the skin next to his ear. 

Sherlock opened the envelope, and began to read. 

__

_My Dearest John,_

_The stars above cannot number the ways I adore you. Oh, how I long to hold you close, to keep you safe from harm, to let you know how much I love you. And yet, I must restrain myself. When you wake in the throes of a nightmare, I wish I could hold you close, and tell you everything will be alright. But I cannot, for fear that you may reject me. When you put your life on the line for me, I want to pull you back, tell you how idiotic you are and how much it would pain me if I lost you. When you take care of me, tell me I need to eat, or make me tea in the morning, I wish I could tell you then. But a life lived with these feelings kept inside, and you still close, than a life where you do not love me, and are far away. I-_

"Sherlock," John said softly. Sherlock looked up, and saw tears in John's eyes. "I love you." 

Sherlock set the letter aside, and pulled John in for another kiss. After a moment, they pulled back slowly, both not wanting the moment to end. 

"I...I love you too, John." Sherlock said, wiping the tears from John's eyes with his thumb. 

John let out a breathy chuckle, and pulled Sherlock in close for a hug. 

"And I always will." Sherlock buried his face into John's shoulder, with John holding him tight. 


End file.
